Chapter Eighteen #2
Wren turns his face from us both, the shadow cast by our fire plunging his features into darkness.
Chiron’s jaw clenches, and my heart sinks.
But indignation? It rises in my chest. Feelings I hadn’t quite recognized rise to the surface of my consciousness.
Wren cannot keep partaking in this relationship only from a distance.
We are not a performance given attention only when he cannot withhold himself.
Before I can speak again, Wren turns his face back to us.
A familiar anguish is etched once more into his features.
I calm my growing resentment, waiting for him to speak.
He is quiet for a few beats of time, but when he opens his mouth to speak, his words ring out into the night. “My brother is dead. He died.”
Chiron’s expression morphs from frustration into puzzlement.
“I didn’t…I didn’t know you had a brother.” Chiron starts, the words slow and tentative. “What does this have to do with you leaving?”
Wren’s eyebrows rise on his face.
“I was never leaving. I told you that. I just…I had to know.”
Before Chiron can spark another heated exchange, I cut in.
“Chiron, please. Let him start from the beginning. Wren? Start from the beginning. Please?”
Another beat passes quietly between us. Chiron nods his agreement.
“I told Netta this the other night at the inn. I wanted to tell you, I did Chiron. But I wasn’t ready. Frankly, I am not ready now.” Wren starts, his voice is frustrated and low. Chiron remains quiet, patience written into his eyes for the first time for Wren in days.
“I had a brother. His name was Bran. He was smart, funny…the best brother. He wanted to be a scholar; he taught me to read. But it didn’t work out that way for him.
He got sick, and he died.” Wren’s chin falls to his heaving chest. It seems so much harder for him to tell this story–his story, again.
Chiron rises slowly and sits next to Wren. They do not look at one another. Their shoulders are pressed together slightly, but Wren does not move away from the contact.
Seeing the two of them sit like this reminds me of our first night in the forest, after leaving the Isle. We were strangers, and yet they had an easy camaraderie, the two of them. I wish more than anything that they could achieve that again.
“I’m sorry, Wren, I am. But I don’t understand.” Chiron whispers.
Wren lifts his face, meeting my eyes. I hope my small smile can be encouraging to him. Strengthening him to continue.
“My brother wanted to go to the Isle of Men to study. But my parents? We were farmers. Migrants. They did not place value on reading or writing. In fact, I didn’t learn to write until I got to the Isle. They worked Bran to the bone, my folks. He wasn’t healthy enough for it, who would be?”
The anger and grief pour from Wren as he fights to keep his composure. Chiron’s hand reaches over and takes Wren’s into it. In the shadows, it is hard to see. But I imagine Chiron gives it the same gentle squeeze he does to me. My heart is at once hopeful and full of sadness for Wren.
“My brother got sick from the animals. I never saw him again. He died. So when I could, I left. I went to Caelestis. I dedicated my life to his dreams. They were my dreams.” Wren’s words end in a whisper. A secret admission to the night.
Without much thought, I rise to my knees and quietly make my way over to them, my husbands.
I sit on the other side of Chiron, and I rest my head on his shoulder.
He snakes his free arm around me and holds me there.
For a time, no one speaks. The light of the fire dances on the cave walls. Shadows and glowing embers paint them.
Chiron speaks first, quietly and with compassion.
“I’m sorry, Wren. I get it. I understand now why you would want to go home. I haven’t talked about her much, but I have a younger sister. If that happened to her…I think I’d burn down the entire kingdom.”
He squeezes me tighter to his side. Wren nods, accepting Chiron’s words for what they are, a shared experience of siblings.
One I cannot relate to exactly. But leaving my home, being without kin?
That is something we all know well. That is the burden of life; some of us live while others pass on to the realm of souls.
When the silence grows long, I understand that Wren has said all that he is able. But still, there are things that need to be known between the three of us. Wren may object to this, but Chiron deserves the whole picture.
“Wren wasn’t planning to leave, Chiron. He wanted to know if he had a choice.
After the story about your parents’ third, he wanted to know if there was any record of this in history.
If there were any consequences. But he hadn’t decided on anything.
You saw…we both saw how it was eating away at him. ”
Chiron lowers his head onto the top of mine, where it lies on his shoulder.
His breathing is shaky, but consistent. I can feel the remorse radiating from him for all of the fighting that has occurred between us.
“I cannot blame you, Wren. For wanting to know. I just don’t understand why you went behind our backs.
You know…you know what I said to you both.
In the ice caves. At the sea trial. My greatest fear is losing you.
Either of you. Why did you do it?” His question is full of pain, but it contains something else, too.
Tenderness, vulnerability. The mask of the prince is nowhere in sight.
Only the man remains. He is loyal, and he is not without kindness or understanding. He is simply hurt. Confused.
“I didn’t want to hurt you. Either of you.
Can you not understand? You were born to this; you did not have a choice either.
I just needed to know if the door was open.
I didn’t know whether I wanted to walk through it.
” Wren’s voice is but a whisper. It is filled with the need to be understood.
I hope to Naedra that Chiron can give him that.
Chiron raises his head, and one by one, he gives Wren and me a soft kiss on our brows.
The three of us remain here. Quiet for so long, I do not know if I sleep or if I simply drift through my consciousness.
I come to, to the whispers of Chiron, soft and quiet in Wren’s ear.
I cannot make much of it from here. Before I fall back asleep, I hear him say,
“I understand. It’s behind us now.”